


Fire and Family

by Poseidons_Ultra



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:39:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8996857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poseidons_Ultra/pseuds/Poseidons_Ultra





	1. Costs of Victory

The heat is unbearable.

I look to the sky as explosions rumble the ground around me. I look to my trapped left arm, stuck under bent rebar and concrete, it has rendered me immobile for the time. 

Crack! 

I look to the building across from me, a rocket slamming into it. As debris fell from the impact I heard a horrid screeching noise.

‘That is so not fair’ I think to myself as the building begins to buckle from its fresh wound. I look again to my trapped arm and take a deep breath. 

‘Now or never’ I begin to pull my arm out from the entanglement of debris it is trapped under. The first thing I notice is the rebar carving into my arm. The pain is worse than stabbing my own hand with a knife, as my arm begins to resemble a jack o’lantern. I pant while my vision narrows to a small tunnel as I draw closer to freeing my ensnared arm. 

“It may be better to let myself be crushed,” I mutter dejectedly as I stop for a second to try to ease the pain. I renew my efforts as the building rumbles loudly once more, gritting my teeth as my hand comes free of the rebar mesh; covered in cuts that are steadily seeping my life onto the ground, but still attached to me.

I blink away the pain, shoving it to the back of my mind as I stand, my left arm hanging loosely to my side. Opening my eyes staring down the avenue of destruction before me; burning vehicles of all makes, huge piles of debris, broken bodies, and craters fill my view.

“How the hell am I supposed to survive?” I ask myself. The building rumbling again, leaning towards me gives me my answer. I begin to sprint away from the grieving building, turning into the nearest alleyway and slump against a wall clutching my left arm, ripping the tatters of my bloodstained blue uniform away from my skin. I look back the way I had come as further sounds of grief come from the now collapsing edifice of doomed construction.

The building slams into the ground creating a proverbial earthquake. I take a moment before standing slowly. A shroud of dust begins to blanket the surrounding area, blinding me to everything save a few inches in front of my nose. I make my way as fast as I can toward the end of the avenue. 

“Stop right there scum bag!” a voice calls from somewhere off to my left. 

I turn toward the voice ducking behind a car expecting the worst, “Who you calling scum, rebel trash!?” 

The words are muttered under my breath, but as if on cue a burst of automatic gunfire pierces the car I am hiding behind. I hold my breath looking around for options. Then something catches my eye. A handgun. Half buried under a small amount of dirt, looking ready for the blood of my enemies. I quickly grab my savior, my hands shaking. 

“You have three seconds!” the voice yells again. I hear a loud clicking noise to indicate the replacing of a magazine, while my heart continues to pound with the force of a thousand suns inside my chest, the handgun in my right hand screaming to be pointed at a target. I swallow, my mouth dry from the settling dust.

Blinking in what feels like slow motion I raise my body to direct the gun toward my unknown assailant. The surprisingly cool handgun gives off a sensation of absolute elation as it points toward the unknown figure. I pull the trigger, the hammer slamming forward with a loud bang. 

The bullet flies forward with a blaze of hatred, guided along the path of fate crushing into the black helmet of my assailant. As I watch the body crumple backward, I hear another click. Looking to the second floor of the building in front of me I see another enemy soldier aiming his rifle at me.

‘Legitimately starting to think being crushed to death would’ve been better’ ducking back behind the car with an exasperated sigh, I glance to the gun in my hand. Once more a strong feeling of elation runs up my arm, and then down my spine; leaving me with the feeling of true power. 

As I begin to rise to encounter the rebel attempting to silence the light of thoughts permanently, a loud gunshot rings out over the avenue, the rebel falling off the building in a pile of black clothing and broken bones. The surprise flushes through me, combating the disappointment I feel radiating from the gun I hold in my right hand.

“You alright down there Sarge?” calls a voice from somewhere to my seven o’clock. The sound of shifting rubble signifies the approach of this friendly shooter. 

Turning to face the approaching soldier, all I can feel is relief. The squad I thought I had lost in the building collapse stands before me, ragged, bruised, and bleeding.   
‘But they’re alive, all five of them,’ a smile touches my lips as I nod to the group of gathered soldier I call family. 

One of the soldiers, Martellius, steps forward pulling out bandages, “Damn, what did you do to your arm?”

I suddenly begin to feel the horrid damage to my arm once more, and nearly collapse. Catching myself with a step forward, Martellius puts his hand on my shoulder.

“You need to sit down, don’t need you passing out from blood loss,” Martellius helps me rest against the car I had used as cover, its warm metal frame comforting the pain flowing though my body. I feel the cuts in my arm slowly begin to be covered in bandages, soothing their anger at being exposed to the dirt, and debris of the outside world. 

As Martellius steps back with a curt nod, I slowly rise to my feet, exhaustion becoming my fiercest enemy. 

Slowly moving toward the end of the avenue a voice calls from somewhere behind me, “Sarge, you gonna drop that ole handgun and carry a real gun?” 

Turning on my heel, the gun in my right hand giving off uncomfortable vibes through my body, “I think I’ll hang on to it Brownly, kind of hard to let go of something that just saved my life.”

‘Great now I’m getting attached to a hunk of metal’ pulling back the striking hammer I point with the barrel of the gun. “Let’s take that building as or new home.”

My five squad mates nod in ragged unison and begin to make their way toward the designated building. The crunching of pebbles under combat boots is the only noise that echoes through the city now, and the silence seems to be creeping up on me as I cover the squads six. Once again I can feel the cool metal of the gun I hold in my right hand lending me its strength so that I can survive another mission. I approach the crouched Lakely and tap his shoulder, not too rapidly, just enough for him to know I will cover his movements across the street. 

‘I still can’t shake this feeling, as if the gun is warning me…’ Watching Lakely cross the rugged terrain of the avenue I feel a sudden sense of dread. 

“Lakely get down!” a cracked voice barely above a whisper escapes my throat. I rush forward as fast as I can, the crunching of rocks under my boots becoming the loudest thing in my ears; louder than my other squad mates calling me back. ‘Get down; just let yourself collapse…please!’  
A sound of thunder rips through the silent air.

Warm specks land on my face as a sniper round rips through Lakely. I slide on one knee and catch him before he hits the rough, unforgiving ground. A look of shock and pure sadness cover Lakely’s face, realizing what has just occurred. 

I grab Lakely’s hand feeling the strength fading, “Stay with me soldier, I don’t want you dying on me.”

The sound of gunfire rips my eyes from the fading Lakely. Looking behind as my squad opens fire toward the second story of the building I wanted to occupy. 

“Get out of the fuckin open Sarge!” Pontice yells at me, as he fires another burst toward the building. I shake myself back into reality picking up Lakely running toward the nearest car as if all hell was trying to catch me. 

The next thirty seconds go by so slowly they feel like hours. Holstering my gun, I grab Lakely’s single shot rifle, and peer over the destroyed husk of the car aiming toward the sniper nest. Squeezing off four shots in rapid succession, I will each shot to kill my opponents.

“Move! Take the building, slaughter the bastards!” I yell straining my vocal cords, vaulting over the car. A chorus of bullets rings out as I charge, my squad pinning the snipers as we charge. ‘I’ll kill that rebel scum; no one hurts my squad, my FAMILY’ 

Ping!

A bullet ricochets off a nearby car causing my gait to stutter slowing me. The harsh heat beats down upon me, and I nearly collapse; but a cool presence fills my mind as my hand moves subconsciously to the gun holstered on my right side. I yank the gun free and squeeze the trigger three times, doing my best to aim at the snipers hiding spot.   
Martellius drops to a knee letting off a burst of automatic gunfire. ‘I have to protect them’ races through my mind as I slam my back into the wall underneath the snipers nest. Stepping away from the wall I fire the remaining bullets in my clip into the figure above me. 

‘Take that you S.O.B’ I wave for my squad to enter the prism which only moments ago had the stench of death coming from it. ‘One…two…three…four…dead’ sighing I enter the building after Darius. The door closes silently behind us, entombing us in an everlasting shadow.

Darius turns grabbing my shoulder suddenly, “It wasn’t your fault, it could’ve easily been you. You had no way to know.” 

Each word Darius utters grates in my ears, “It should’ve been me, and I should’ve taken point.” With a shudder I push past Darius. ‘I did know though, I could’ve saved him’ the gun in my right hand seems to reverberate my sorrow. 

“We’ll hold up here until evac arrives,” hollow words flow from my mouth, “I’m getting you all out of here.”

 

The hollow words fall on ears eager for a pep talk, and as one the squad spreads out to take watch over different sectors. Moving across the foyer is the single hardest thing I’ve ever done, the floor seems to grip my feet as I walk, and I want nothing more to collapse.

“Pontice, how long till evac gets here anyway?” Brownly says.

A sigh comes from Pontice, “About twenty minutes Brownly, now shut your trap”

I shift in my stance, the noise echoing through the foyer, “Everyone settle down, I don’t want to lose anyone else.” My raspy voice is only a shell of its former glory, not even fitting of a civvie. The sounds of unrest settle into my ears, and do nothing but augment the anxiety that swells inside my chest. 

‘Lakely I hope you find yourself in a wondrous place, but the rest of your family has work down here in hell’ solemnly locking away my emotions I turn to look out the window keeping a watch on the avenue. 

Shadows slowly descend onto the street, covering in a blanket of mystery and danger. The deep blue settles throughout the foyer, obscuring the rest of the squad from my view unless they move. I use this shadowy time to allow myself a few selfish tears for my fallen comrade. I know I’m not alone as I hear Brownly inhale sharply every few minutes. Before I know it I can hear a sound that reminds me of an eagles call; powerful, protective of their own, and the sound of flight. 

Standing with the appropriate hesitation I holster my hand gun and speak in as commanding a voice as possible, “Alright let’s get out of here Kilo six nine.” Placing a hand on each of my surviving squad mates as I walk by, I push open the glass doors with the sound of aggravated gravel responding. Search lights fill my view as a XC-98 troop helicopter lands in the area in front of the building.

Standing by as a solemn statue, I watch my squad board the helicopter one at a time; each one says something to me, but the noise of the helicopter cuts out anything they say.   
Martellius enters the helicopter patting me on the shoulder, and I follow him into the passenger area. As soon as my exhausted body rests into one of the seats, the cargo door slams closed and I find myself encased in darkness once more. 

My squad, usually ecstatic and talkative after a mission, sits silently in the dark; reflecting on what they are fighting for, and whether it would be worth their lives.


	2. Pain of Victory

Crunch…Crunch…Crunch

The steady beat of boots across the gravel echo in my ears. 

I walk with a steady pace, four familiar figures follow close behind in a loose V-formation. No one dares to speak, hardly breathing. 

‘We succeeded in our mission. But is this really a victory?’ I think as my boots guide myself and my surviving squad mates toward the barracks. ‘This is worse than failure…much worse.’

Glancing over my shoulder, my gaze is met with the hollow gazes of a squad that most would mistake for a group of failures returning after their mission was ruined by their incompetence. This was not how I had ever returned from a mission. We were Ocelot Squad, we never lost. 

But it feels like we did.

“Hey…uh Sarge, your face…” Darius says, refusing to meet my eyes. 

Pontice hands me a dirt stained cloth, and I take it with solemn obedience. I begin to rub the grime off my face the best I can. With the dried blood of our fallen comrade. Stuffing the cloth into my left pant pocket, “Thank you, I was a bit of a mess if you two had to say something.”

‘It’s already starting. We’re refusing to admit what happened, refusing to make it real.’ I think as hollow grins manage to grace the faces of my squad. ‘How do we move on?’ I silently plead, hoping for an answer I would never get.

“Sargent Chasta! You were supposed to report for debrief at 1300.” A booming voice, belonging to a cannon on legs, called out.

I turn away from my weary squad and face the lumbering behemoth of a man known as Captain McCray. “Captain McCray, sir! Forgive the delay, Ocelot Squad and I touched down at 1248 have been making our way towards the barracks. Planning from there to arrive at the Command Center at 1315 sir!”

Captain McCray towered over me, being almost seven feet tall few rivaled his height. “Did I ask what you were planning to do Sargent?”

“Sir, no sir” I said gritting my teeth ‘I’m not in the mood for this McCray, just let me go already.’ 

The tension in the air must’ve been polluting the nearby troops, they cast uneasy glances at our already nerve racking appearance. McCray wasn’t helping the appearance of my squad.

“Well Sargent, get a move on to the Command Center before I kick your ass all the way there!” McCray sputtered as he leaned close to my face, “And make it on the double!”

I nod, “Ocelot fallout! Debrief double time for our wonderful Captain McCray!”

McCray takes his leave of our presence and heads towards the officers mess. I let out a short breath, feeling the sudden urge to draw on his vulnerable backside emanating from the holstered hand gun on my right leg. 

I feel someone grab my shoulder, and see Brownly shaking his head, “I know he’s a piece of filth, but you can’t fight him Sarge. We have a debrief waiting on us.”

‘I wasn’t going to fight…I was going to murder…I was?’ I ponder in the seclusion of my own thoughts as I change course, heading for the Command Center, “Not like it’d be a good fight anyway.”

Everything seems to moving much faster than the past several hours. I find myself entering the Command Center before I even realize where I am. The white walls with fluorescent lights burn my retinas to crisps, but I march up to the clerk on duty, “Ocelot Squad reporting for debrief.”

The clerk looks at her screen for several heartbeats, not even blinking before looking up at me, “Your debriefing will be at 1330 with General Obias. You six can take seats over there.” The clerks gestures with a red pen to one of the four identical corners of blinding white light and cleanliness.

I turn away from the clerk, when a shaky voice speaks up, barely above a whisper. “Actually ma’am, there are only five of us now…” Pontice says, barely keeping a straight face as he marches to the farthest chair from where he had previously been standing.

All I hear is a sharp intake of breath from the clerk behind the counter, before she responds with her own impossibly low whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Before I can muster of the composure to lie to her face, to say we’re fine, Martellius speaks up, “We’re okay ma’am, nothing we soldiering boys aren’t used to by now.”

I feel as though the world stops around me, no one moves, no one even breathes. 

As if summoned by magic, “Ocelot Squad, General Obias will see you now.” An intercom sounds with such a monotone voice that I am able to shake out of the stupor I was in for the briefest of moments.

“Ocelot, let’s go see what the big-wigs want to hear from us this time,” I say as the white lights seem to intensify as we set out into the depths of a building that feels even more dangerous than the spire of death we had previously sheltered in.

The tile floors clack against our combat boots as we march down the hall, single file, and taking up half the walkway. After seemingly endless turns, we finally arrive at the debriefing station, where we meet another clerk.

“You will have to leave all weapons outside this room gentlemen,” The clerk says as he looks at us expectantly, “I trust this is not an issue?”  
Martellius, Pontice, Brownly, and Darius part with their respective weapons. Each one slumping their shoulders, knowing that momentarily they will wish they were in the middle of a warzone, firing off rounds at opposing forces. 

Then, comes my turn.

I slowly place my combat knife onto the silver tray in front of me. Next, I set the two spare magazines of hand gun ammo onto the tray with the knife. Lastly, I draw my handgun. The handgun. Setting it down onto the tray felt as if though I were giving up a part of my soul. “We do get these particular weapons back, right?” I ask the clerk, sounding delusional even to myself.

Darius pats me on the pack several times, “You see, that’s our sergeant’s favorite handgun. It’ll be devastating to him if he didn’t get it back.”

“Why yes of course! I can assure you all these belongings will be returned to you after the debriefing,” the clerk says putting on a smile as easy to see through as glass.

‘Sorry we make your job oh so hard, maybe next time you can be the one to go out and get shot’ I think bitterly as I push through the door into the room, with walls covered in silver, and one side having a one way mirror to monitor the conversation. A large silver table with six open seats and one occupied dominates the room.

“Gentlemen, we’re lucky to have you back. I know this is rather hasty but we need to debrief you of your mission asap,” comes a voice. The voice belongs to an older gentlemen of roughly seventy years of age, General Obias. 

A salute responds to the General, “Sir, Ocelot Squad reporting!”

Obias nods slowly, the wrinkles of a frown being worn into his face after months of bad news, “At ease gentlemen. I know this isn’t an ideal situation, and the whole thing must be rough on you all.”

I gesture for my men to take their seats around the table, before taking my position across the sea of reflective silver from General Obias, “Don’t worry sir, we’re soldiers. It’s our duty to follow orders and complete our objectives… No matter the cost.”

The reactions from my squad says more than any response from the General I could receive. I sounded hollow, ‘Of course I do, I don’t even believe that.’

“Son, you can’t separate yourself from your human side when it’s convenient. Cause you’re gonna lose it that way,” Obias says, his gaze burning into my soul. “That being said, I want you to take the surviving members of Ocelot for some R and R. You boys need it now more than ever.”

Pontice is the first to speak, “Sir respectfully, take your R and R and shove it.”

“Pontice, don’t make me fight you,” Brownly says with a voice tinted with anger, “I want a break from all this”

‘Infighting? When have we ever done that?’ I quickly muster the domineering voice of a veteran sergeant, “Ocelot Squad stow the chatter!”

A hushed silence falls over the room as Pontice looks down at the table, and Brownly fiddles with his hands.

A deep sigh from General Obias as he slowly stands. He moves with the grace of a panther stalking its prey toward the wall with the one way mirror. I feel the stares of Martellius and Darius burning into me with each passing moment the General stands with his back to us.  
I feel the urge to stay silent, but I force my mouth to open, “Sir, I can’t help but feel that R and R is not what we need right now. I don’t want to turn down a generous offer, but I would rather be sent on our next mission, as I’m sure the rest of Ocelot would agree.”

“I understand son, believe me, nothing is worse than what you and your boys are going through right now. But, until you face it, it’s gonna get worse,” Obias says turning to face us, his facial expression telling that he is remembering events long past, but not forgotten. A small grin touches his lips, “If that is what you want however, I will not deny your request. After debrief you will receive your orders.”


End file.
